


Mid-life Princess

by Karin Yukimura (Karinpon), Sexsuna



Series: Mid-life Princess [1]
Category: Black Gene for the Next Scene (Band), Jrock, Jupiter (Band), Versailles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Anal Sex, Come Swallowing, Consensual Sex, Crossdressing, Fellatio, Gay, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual exploration, Visual Kei, cocksucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2749274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karinpon/pseuds/Karin%20Yukimura, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexsuna/pseuds/Sexsuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rame calls Hizaki one evening, and with nothing better to do, he decides it is worth entertaining his proposal, so they meet at a café. One things lead to another, and Hizaki will discover new things about himself he never dared to think existed within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mid-life Princess

As finally he was alone, Hizaki sat down on his couch and reached in under his skirt, under the underskirt – he was just about to grab onto his cock when his mobile phone rang, its ring tone some fragment of an unbearable popular song, just some ten seconds, repeating in the most obnoxious way, which made him feel a fleeting irritation (he could not remember who had set the terrible thing as his ring tone, either), and he stood up and took his phone off the glass coffee table. He didn’t even look at it to see who it was.

“Yes,” he answered whoever it was with evident annoyance.

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you it was rude to reply without presenting yourself?” the voice came through the aether. “What if I was a stranger who had the wrong number? Imagine what a disaster that could have turned out to be. You’d have been really embarrassed.”

“Rame... what do you want?”

“Oh, I see you’re in a sour mood,” he said, “so perhaps I should call you back another time.”

“Too late now. I’m off the sofa. What’s up?”

“Ah, you see, I was wondering if you’d like to go out on a little date. A drink or food, whichever you prefer. Just in advance of the show next week. Would you be willing?”

“Well, I don’t know...” Hizaki reluctantly said, “I had changed into a dress and everything, and I am a bit tired...”

“Dress is good. Come in that. Nothing else accepted. No cost to you, though – I’ll pay for everything. Come on now.”

It was a good enough deal, and not like he had better plans. He could postpone that little wank till later, he thought. Maybe some coffee would do him good, he had not been arsed to make any for himself, despite knowing full well it was the elixir that kept a middle-aged man from sleeping half the day due to horrible exhaustion.

“Maybe... But where and how do I get there? Do I have to take a taxi?”

“Well, it certainly is too far to walk, especially in heels. And you are wearing heels. Have you ever been at Café au Amour? It’s a good place. I like it.”  
“No, I don’t think so. Do you fancy Kamijou will be there?”

“No, of course not,” Rame giggled, “just because it has a French name doesn’t mean he’ll be sucked in, though I can see why you’d come to that conclusion. No, it’s just a pleasant little eatery, it’s not even French themed. So, are you coming? Remember, that I’m footing the bill. I’m the corrupt government and you are the construction company I hire to build useless motorways to stimulate the economy and sell more cars. Okay?”

Whatever that meant, it didn’t really matter to him. “Okay,” Hizaki said, “I will come. When?”

“In an hour. And remember – wear a dress!” Rame hung up, awaiting no second thoughts on Hizaki’s part.

Hizaki put the phone back down on the table, and went into the bathroom. He tied his hair up in two bunches, applied generous layers of concealer to cover up the unevenness of the skin on his face, and those sad wrinkles; applied red lipstick and did his eyes, and was reasonably satisfied with the result. He put on a garter belt and a pair of black fishnet stockings thereto tied (over his underwear, which were, naturally, of the female sort – he recalled with unpleasant shudder how a repugnant bangya had made fun of him for this fact, pointed with her calloused fingers at him and laughed, and how dumb it had made him feel; that ugly shit with her oily skin, why had he even let her in? He had felt some kind of unwarranted pity, it was clear, and thought she’d be open to talking to him. He often liked to talk with those fans, even if they had the intelligence of primitive molluscs; it made him feel good to be praised, even by these vapid harlots), and he fiddled with his dress to make sure it looked immaculate. It was black with red trimmings and lacing, with a fluffy knee-high skirt (and the aforementioned white underskirt), and had long sleeves (that way it covered up his arms which he had not bothered to shave much above the wrists for a couple of weeks).

He got out of the bathroom and put on a pair of shoes by the door (glossy black platform court-shoes with chunky heels) and then went back to the living room, picked up his mobile, and called for a taxi. Twenty minutes, he had, and he thought for a while about finishing up that wankus interruptus from before, but decided against it. He didn’t want to look flushed and breathe heavily when he went down to the taxi... or for that matter, let any perspiration ruin his makeup.

With a few minutes to go, he took his handbag with him and left his flat, locked the door, and descended the exterior flight of stairs. The taxi had already arrived, parked close to the façade with the engine still running, and he went over to it.

“Where to Ma’am?” the driver asked as he got in.

He smiled to himself.

“Café au Amour,” he replied.

The driver kept quiet, and began to drive. Had he not noticed the dark masculine timbre of his voice? No reason to keep thinking about it, Hizaki decided. It took roughly thirty-two minutes, but then the traffic was held up once due to a fire and the associated fire and rescue services blocking off one of the lanes, so on a clear evening it might probably only take twenty five minutes.

The taxi dropped him off outside. It was a well-lit place, a small building nestled between taller buildings (most of which seemed to be hotels) with a brightly shining neon sign. A big heart glowed above the text, warm and red, offering a pleasant contrast with the breeze that blew in from the nearby river.

★

  
Rame saw when Hizaki entered, and called him to his table, where he had apparently wasted time aimlessly browsing some magazine (Hizaki couldn’t see it well, but the cover seemed to boast the shirtless profile of a well-defined young man), which he now returned to his bag which he had at his feet under the table. He was wearing a big grey and white Gothic Lolita dress, and from what Hizaki saw under the table, some brown stockings and black ankle boots with high chunky heels. He had a wig on, which he had most of the time; this one was long and faded pink.

“I’m glad you could come!” he exclaimed as Hizaki sat down. “I got here already fifteen minutes ago. Turned out it didn’t take as long to walk here as I thought – usually I’ll get a ride... What would you like to have for a drink? The coffee here is pretty good.”

“I guess I can have a cup.”

Rame got up (it was quite the off-peak time, and only three other people in the establishment) and ordered the coffee at the counter from a small domesticated woman. Hizaki was left alone at the table in the meanwhile. Due to the low number of customers present, the order was brief in arriving, and Rame soon returned with their coffee.

Hizaki took an exploratory sip of that fine elixir that keeps people alert when they ought to sleep from exhaustion; it was all too hot, and he put it back down. He glanced at Rame. He, evidently, had no trouble with the warm coffee, for already close to half the cup was empty.

“Did you not like the coffee?” Rame asked.

“Oh, it’s not that, it was just too warm.”

Rame looked at him, and Hizaki looked despondently into the cup while he stirred the coffee into mesmeric whirls to avoid meeting his gaze. He wasn’t sure what for.

“You look tired,” Rame said.

“I suppose I am, sometimes I just feel so out of it. I don’t know how I manage to keep going. And I think, one day, I will hit a wall, and I will collapse – and then what? What am I then, when I cannot make music any longer? I’m no fun to be around, or so it feels, and... well, I don’t know why I am even saying this...” His cheeks flushed slightly.

“Often approached by bangya? You ever done it with one?”

“What kind of question is that?!” Hizaki complained, flustered. “I mean, they are all over me, but I don’t generally let them close... Once, when I felt so terribly lonely, I was desperate for any human touch I could possibly find, and I let one of them close... I wasn’t particularly aroused, she was quite ugly and something the opposite of what I desire... But she insisted we have sex. I was reluctant... but she was quite forceful. But when I pulled down my trousers, and she saw my underwear, girls’ underwear, she laughed... she pointed at me and laughed... it was humiliating. She’s been talking shit about me, spreading rumours, nonsense... after that, I couldn’t get it up no matter what, and we didn’t actually have sex...” He caught his breath as his face burned, then thought to ask, in hopes that Rame might have something equally embarrassing to tell, “What about you?”

“Oh, I never let them close to my life like that,” Rame said, “you never know what sort of shifty things they might do. Not that it stops them from making things up on the internet, though, but there’s no reason to mind that rubbish, right?”

“Besides, you don’t quite swing that way, anyhow, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

Hizaki couldn’t tell if Rame was being facetious, if the question in response to his was a joke – or if he’d made a serious error in judgement. At any rate, there was no going back now.

“You’re gay, aren’t you?”

This time, Rame looked bashfully away for a moment, then giggled. “Well, it’s as good an answer as any,” he said. “Ice isn’t quite as discerning as me, there’ve been a few times when he fell for the bangya’s siren song. He’s weak like that, despite that ripped torso he has... So he can’t be let alone to make such decisions.” Rame’s gaze wandered off somewhere.

Hizaki was silent. His thoughts wandered like Rame’s gaze had, drifting off to some far-off horizon, off-earth, mayhap; he wasn’t sure what he thought. Was it denial of the obvious? At some level, there was a foreboding awareness that Rame had called for him, not because he just wanted to meet up and chat, but because of ulterior purposes, probably of a sexual kind. The strangest thing was that he wasn’t feeling particularly averse to the idea, even though it was not something he would propose on his own. He sipped the coffee once more, now of a tolerable temperature, and was not long in finishing it up.

“So,” Rame interjected suddenly; like a knife cuts through flesh, the words split in twain the silence, “want to come up to my room at the hotel across the street?”

Hizaki blushed anew – though it was unlikely it was visible through his make-up. “To do what?” He wasn’t even thinking before he replied now, it was automatic fire; a round went into the chamber and was promptly launched with great speed.

“Play a little,” Rame said coyly. “Wouldn’t you want to try?”

Too embarrassed to answer, Hizaki simply reached with his hand across the table and touched Rame’s. The other seemed to understand, and within seconds they were – Rame moved with a certain urgency, perhaps the urgency of his... urges – out of the café and crossing the road. Right across lay with red tiled façade some sort of love-hotel. A neon loop shaped like a big heart glowed vibrantly over the entrance. The windows were small and set back from the façade to prevent insight. It should have been ominous, but Hizaki felt nothing like that as they ascended the two steps to the entrance and vanished within, where red carpet floor and red satin hangings in garish opulence greeted them.

 

★

  
Hizaki sat down on the bed while Rame went to the bathroom in their room on the third floor. Rame came out, carrying his purse, which he put on a chair facing the window (as in the lobby, red hangings prevented good view in or out of the room). Innocently Hizaki waited, unsure how things would proceed. Rame moved with confidence, dropping suddenly to his stockinged knees before Hizaki, and reaching with a hand in under his skirts, until he scraped against it like a boat running aground. “It’s hard already,” he said, then letting his right hand join his left, he pulled down Hizaki’s underwear without looking at it, until the prick was exposed underneath it all; Hizaki’s heart rate rose with arousal as his cock pushed against the layers of skirt.

“You’ve never sucked one yourself, I assume,” Rame said, and flipped up the layers of skirt until the penis was visible, rigid now, standing proud like a totem pole around which would love to dance an adoring crowd. It wasn’t very large, but stood with a certain perkiness almost straight up, a slight gentle angle to the left. He frigged it loosely, and saw how some transparent fluid leaked out, wetting the exposed portion of the glans.

He bent his head down, and took it in his mouth, sucking in that nectar; it had a mild sweetness to it, though that could have been in his head. He let his tongue scrape against the glans and the sensitive edge of the foreskin, whose texture too was smooth; Hizaki let out some effeminate whimper. Since it was not particularly large, it was little effort for Rame to take it all down to the base, drooling over it, saliva slipping down towards the testes, reaching critical mass and falling—the tongue sliding up and down, immersing the length in the whirling wetness—

Hizaki whined, “Yes,” he said, and put his hands on Rame’s head, fingers buried in the flowing hair of the wig, thrusting his cock convulsively in and out, Rame’s lip tight around the shaft. “It’s coming,” he said, one, two, and then three more quick thrusts, and the load was ejected; three more thrusts, each slighter than the last, until the cock, spent, began to slowly retract to its slack state.

Rame spat it out, and licked some of the semen that had drivelled down off the testicles. In post-ejaculatory sensitivity, it all felt oddly ticklish.  
“It was good, right?” Rame asked. He must have swallowed the load. Hizaki felt his cheeks flush with blood.

Hizaki averted his eyes and fell back on the bed. “I—,” he began, but stopped. It was as if he had lost the ability to talk. He quivered, his body felt strange, the lights seemed brighter, his perceptions more acute. Had something been warped within him by that orgasm? No, he just felt too awkward to admit to himself, and to anyone else – even Rame – that he had enjoyed it. “I guess,” was his lame final answer. Rame, however, did not despair, for he could see from that lewd expression on Hizaki’s face, that guilty expression of perverse enjoyment, that it had indeed been a wondrous experience.

“It’s easier for a man, to give pleasure to another, than it is for a woman, whose only knowledge of a man’s weakness, is the feeble fragments she has learned by being a pliable little toy,” Rame said. “But though this is a fact of life, there are still things to learn, on how to please another,” he continued, and lifted up his skirt. He wore no underwear, it became apparent to Hizaki, and he was certainly well-endowed. Infused with blood, it was imbued with a reddish hue, but the erection was not total, for it pointed downwards still; how much larger could it get? “Now, give something back to me. I’ve wanted to do this for years... You were always such a cutie.” His hand gripped that cock that hung like a sausage, and he flopped it up. Hizaki sat up on the bed and reached for it with his cold hand.

It was warm. So very warm. He could feel the beat of the pulse in those sturdy veins.

“Just take it in your mouth, it won’t bite.”

Hizaki scooted nearer to the edge, wrapped his hand around the thing, and reached his head down. It went into his mouth, thick and meaty, the glans moist. His teeth grazed it; Rame seemed to like that. So he did it a bit more. His front teeth against the glans, and Rame quivered.

“Suck on it,” Rame said.

It was too large to fit in his mouth without some effort, but eventually, he embraced it with his mouth. It bore tastes, but none of them were particularly strong, mere hints, and nothing he found objectionable. But the context, on the other hand, he found aroused him so profoundly, that as he sucked, his own prick perked up again, under the skirts, still sore after the skilful fellating and spending, eager for a second tour.

With such a mighty organ – and Hizaki’s mouth was not the biggest – it was hard for him to keep up, but it seemed that Rame was satisfied and nearing a discharge. But just then, he withdrew his prick from Hizaki’s mouth with a brush of his hand, walked off and brought out a small tube of lubricant.

“Turn around and bend over the edge of the bed, and I’ll show you what it’s all about.”

Now, despite enjoying so thoroughly the art of sucking cock, Hizaki was reluctant, for he knew that Rame’s prick was large, and that his own arsehole was pristine. Well, that was a bit off from reality, but no traffic – aside from enema inserted at a few rare occasions when he was troubled by constipation – going in. It certainly was nothing sizeable.

The promise of lube, however, and his state of persistent arousal, clouded his thoughts, and he did as Rame had suggested. Face down in a pillow and bunched up duvet, Rame bent down with his face facing Hizaki’s arse, and began by licking the buttocks, feeling them the way a cattle rancher feels his specimen ready for slaughter, thinking of the tenderness, touching the smooth red meat.

His tongue nestled its way in between his buttocks after a finger had pushed his panties aside.

Had he not been in such a state of thoughtless lust, he might have been worried and embarrassed to show that part of his body. But as it was, he was not.

The tongue prodded against his sphincter. It felt a bit cool, but it was good. And when Rame’s tongue digressed down along the perineum, he thought he’d lose if it he didn’t grab hold of his cock and wank for all that he was worth. He took a deep breath and kept his muscles under conscious control.  
The tongue retracted, and was replaced by a wet lube-drenched finger that twisted in quickly shrinking spirals until it had reached the centre, where it burrowed itself in his anus.

He let out a yelp.

To feel something inside of him that way, it was wonderful. The mere thought made him lose his mind in dizzying heights; cloud-shrouded peaks crowned by blasphemous castle ruins like knives aimed at the heavens. The finger slipped out, his buttocks sliding against one another slimily; that felt good, too.

Rame must have smeared the lube on his cock then, for the next thing he felt was that big head he had kept in his mouth not long before pressing up against the hole. He wasn’t sure it would fit. Maybe it would hurt, too, he worried.

The hole had however been loosened up pretty good by the tongue, and after a few tender prods it entered; with the aid of the lube the only pain was a brief sharp sensation, a faint burn, which soon lapsed into a strangely wonderful feeling of his sphincter giving way and the thing burying its warm pulsating length within. His own cock twitched as entry was made, and he felt how his muscles suddenly became weak and his mind was clouded by a sudden rush of ecstasy.

“You’ve got a fine tight arse,” Rame praised and then pulled out, “just as I always knew you would.” He thrust in again.

Hizaki felt his own cock press against the bed sheets and his skirts. A sliver of drool escaped his mouth. Rame drew out, and pushed in; and Hizaki heard his moans and heavy breathing, which in his strange ecstatic state seemed like the huffing and puffing of some steam-powered machinery, a smoking monstrous sex machine; and now and then a deep push would end with Rame’s testes slapping up against his perineum, and he could feel how the oily transparent pre-come leaked out of his cock.

He tugged at the duvet, and tried to keep himself from drooling, but there was no denying it. He was nearing an orgasm again, if he only could reach down and grab hold of his prick...

Rame said nothing, but his thrusts became quicker, shallower, and soon spasmodic, and his breathing grew to an almost dog-like panting before, moaning gutturally, he came inside Hizaki’s arsehole. Hizaki didn’t feel much of that, except the way the muscles of the cock seemed to slowly twitch in orgiastic pulses, and it grew softer. Rame slowly and carefully, mindful not to cause any pain, withdrew his length.

Hizaki rolled over so that he faced the ceiling, and crawled backwards a bit further up on the bed. He flipped his skirt aside, and took hold of his cock, and closed his eyes and was about to rub one out, thinking it was all over (for now at least), but Rame slapped his hand away, and crawled over him on the bed. Sitting over Hizaki’s belly, with one knee to either side, he held Hizaki’s arms up above his head, and then bent down and kissed him. Their tongues were deliriously intertwined for a swirling flash, before Rame backed upwards a bit, and guided Hizaki’s cock to his own arse, using some of the lube he had still on his fingers as much as possible. Then he eased himself onto it.

With it inside, he began moving, and bent over towards Hizaki and kissed him again. Hizaki reached with his arms (now free from Rame’s grip, as he stabilised himself by holding them down against the bed) over Rame’s back and pressed him down. Their tongues parted ways, and Rame buried his face between Hizaki’s neck and shoulder.

Hizaki eventually did most of the work, thrusting and letting the coils of the bed assist in the rhythm, until he came again, this time inside Rame.

Hizaki twitched, then relaxed.

Rame let the thing slip out, and then crawled off to the side, until he lay next to Hizaki, facing the ceiling.

“Did you like it?” Rame asked and turned his head and looked over at Hizaki.

“I loved it,” he replied. “It was... just great.” Sweat had broken out on his face from the exertion. He’d sleep soundly tonight, of that he had no doubt.  
“Would you like to do it again?”

He persevered against the embarrassment. “Undoubtedly,” he managed.

“Maybe Ice can come along, the next time. He and I have discussed you before. He agreed with me, that you were lovely.”

More blushing – that is to say, if one could have possibly seen it. Hizaki’s arse was a bit sore, not in a painful way, but noticeable. His buttocks were slippery with lube and sweat. He took a deep breath, and tried to relax and recuperate, and he thought that he must be an okama after all, as some of those bangya had tried to insinuate in some childish insults; he guessed that they hadn’t meant it literally. It was amusing how close to reality they could be.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Blooming of the Roses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5396048) by [Karin Yukimura (Karinpon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karinpon/pseuds/Karin%20Yukimura)




End file.
